


The Ineffable Bookshop

by Thorny



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 18:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20587196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorny/pseuds/Thorny
Summary: Crowley talks Aziraphale into maybe rethinking the whole Bookshop that doesn't really sell books shtick.  Humans aren't as unobservant as the angel would like.





	The Ineffable Bookshop

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize ahead of time that this is a rambley mess of fluff and no real plot; mostly just a dumb spouting of slice of life post-apocalypse-that-didn't. They talk, fluff happens.
> 
> Enjoy it, or don't! I'm not in charge of y'all. :P

Crowley found that not having any appointed tasks courtesy of Hell in the aftermath of the Apoca-didn’t left him a great deal of free time. Free time he spent mostly in the company of the angel Aziraphale enjoying the wonderfully unique delights the Earth and its humans had to offer; dining at the Ritz, frequenting small cafes, feeding the ducks at St. James, driving his Bentley at impossible speeds, terrorizing small houseplants, and - of course - lounging in the angel’s loosely termed bookshop.

Crowley hadn’t spent much time at the shop during its “normal” open hours before the Apocalypse-that-nearly-happened. Always after hours, in the backroom with a bottle of wine or other spirit and his angel. 

The shop being open meant customers. 

Aziraphale - or Ezra Fell as he went by to the humans - rarely _actually_ sold a book. It amused Crowley to no end to watch his angel waffle between gentle persuasion to downright stern redirection whenever the topic of purchase came up. He once physically walked a particularly obnoxious man straight to the door, pried his first edition novel from the customer’s hand and shut the door in his face. Crowley nearly bit off his own tongue holding in the cackles.

“You know the humans have places where people don’t buy the books, right, angel?” Crowley asked once, curious why Aziraphale didn’t just turn his ‘shop’ into a library or some such. The blond angel pouted adorably.  
“But my dear boy, I like the _idea_ of being a bookshop owner.”  
Crowley had left it at that with a grand eyeroll over his glass of port. His angel was a strange one at the best of times.

A few days later, the demon sauntered into the backroom with an illustrated copy of ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ - despite his distaste for the man himself, Crowley couldn’t deny Wilde wrote good stories - and flopped back onto the couch in his natural sprawl. He cracked open the well-loved novel and settled in to while the hours until Aziraphale decided to close up.   
A startled noise jerked Crowley out of the book, sliding his sunglasses back into place before looking up. A young woman in a pastel sundress greeted him, wide eyed and absently gripping the door frame for support.  
“Oh! Oh my, I’m terribly sorry, sir, I didn’t even realize there was a room back here,” the brunette apologized quickly. Crowley let out a snort.  
“S’the owner’s little nook, yeah? Not really open to customers, I’m afraid.”  
“Ah, pardon me, then. I… I’ve only ever seen Mr. Fell reading the books and I...” She stopped, chewing her lip. The demon waited a beat with a raised brow before prompting her to continue with a little nudge.  
“Do you think… I could just - well, he certainly doesn’t like to sell them, does he? Could - could I simply read them while I’m here? Most modern bookstores don’t let you do that anymore.”  
Crowley paused. Aziraphale didn’t mind _him_ reading them, certainly. What about the humans? If the angel wouldn’t sell the books, what was the harm in allowing the not-customers to enjoy the shop that way? 

Crowley sent the poor thing off with a little demonic misdirection, but her request stuck in his craw. The book forgotten, the demon whipped out his phone and pulled up a few apps, searching. He snorted at what he found, a fond little smile breaking his lips as he read page after page.

A bit later, as soon as Aziraphale gently booted the last customer, Crowley suggested the new snazzy little izakaya that had just opened up at the end of the row for dinner. His angel heartily agreed.  
The demon initially thought to bring up the question over their starting drinks, however if the angel was by chance offended by the idea, that would sour the entire meal. Even possibly send Aziraphale into a silent pout and Crowley would suffer. So, he waited through skewers and sushi rolls and another bottle of sake for the sake of not ruining Aziraphale’s enjoyment.

“So, a hypothetical question,” Crowley posed after the waiter had cleared the emptied plates. Aziraphale politely dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin before primly folding it onto the table.  
“Mm?”  
“Say some customer wants to sit in the shop and read, oh, one of the misprint bibles. Not buy, just read. What’d you think about that?”  
The angel tilted his head ever so slightly, contemplating. Crowley shifted in his chair to slouch in the other direction, trying to appear nonchalant.  
“I… suppose there wouldn’t be any harm,” Aziraphale allowed, slowly glancing up at the demon with a knowing little look, “Not any of the first editions though.”  
“Oh, no of course not.”  
“Or the signed prints.”  
“Definitely not.”  
“But… yes, I could - in theory, mind - allow a customer to… peruse my stock.”  
“Maybe a reading nook, over by the window,” Crowley ventured, waving a hand vaguely. The angel raised a brow and Crowley quickly tried to backtrack before Aziraphale held up a hand, effectively silencing his dinner partner.  
“Crowley, is there something specific you’re after?”  
The demon floundered. Aziraphale rolled his eyes gently, reaching out to take Crowley’s flailing hand. He gave it a gentle pat.  
“You’re still hung up about the whole library versus bookshop thing, aren’t you?”  
“Ngk.”  
“I see. Did something happen to bring this up, my dear?”  
“We-ell,” Crowley drawled, swallowing thickly as his hand was still captured in Aziraphale’s, “Yes and no, a customer spotted me reading in the back room. Started asking questions. I sent her on with a little - you know - but it, uh, made me think.”  
“Dangerous,” the angel teased. The demon rolled his eyes beneath his sunglasses.  
“Yes, well, look - ” Crowley extricated his hand and pulled out his phone. He pulled up the app he’d been looking at earlier and passed it to Aziraphale.  
“This is called Yelp, humans rate places they’ve been to for each other, sometimes with little stories,” the demon explained patiently, watching the angel delicately scroll the bright screen with a single outstretched finger. His brow visibly furrowed as he read each entry.  
“These… are all about my shop.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Oh dear.”  
“There are some real funny ones in there. Apparently some bloke spotted me through the window while I was sunnin’ myself in your armchair and sent the commenters into a tizzy trying to figure out if you had a pet snake or if he was lying.”  
“So that’s why there were so many teens into bebop in the shop that week,” Aziraphale chuckled. Crowley resisted the obvious bait and continued.  
“But, angel, people have noticed that you don’t actually really sell any books.”  
Aziraphale sighed, passing the demon his phone. He pursed his lips and gave Crowley an imploring look.  
“I know, I know, you like the _idea_ of being a bookshop owner. But the humans aren’t stupid. Plus, you don’t even need the cover anymore! We do whatever we want, whenever we want, now.”  
The angel sat back in his seat, chewing his lip gently once Crowley finished. The demon wished he hadn’t finished his drink so he’d have something to do with his hands in the meanwhile. Aziraphale finally broke the slightly awkward silence with a slight smirk.  
“Whatever we want, hm?”

\---

Crowley felt the next couple days pass in a bit of a blur. For one, he didn’t exactly remember verbally agreeing to helping in this little venture. Yet, he found himself assisting his angel in migrating several shelves worth of books to an upstairs flat that had most definitely not existed before. The backroom remained untouched, however Aziraphale’s desk and the ancient register had mysteriously disappeared to make room for a tartan couch and a pair of matching tartan wingbacks - who had siblings strewn about the nooks between aisles now as well - as well as a low wooden coffee table. Really, the whole thing looked more like a massive study in a home than a shop.  
“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked fretfully, wringing his hands. Crowley let his glasses slide down his nose just enough to level the angel with a Look.  
“I’ll spare you the complaints about the tartan,” the demon snorted, “but are you going for homely or library?”  
“Well, would _you_ sit and read here?”  
“Probably? I’m not your target audience, though, angel.”  
Aziraphale huffed softly, eyeing the furniture with a slight furrowed brow. Crowley snapped his fingers and the two armchairs changed to a nice soft brown leather. The angel offered a winning smile to the demon for his input. Crowley grumbled, pushing his glasses back into place.  
“So, how’re you gonna spread the word that the shop is less shop-oriented?”  
“Oh, I rather thought I would start a book club.”  
Crowley blinked. “A… book club.”  
“Yes, yes, I did a little research while you moved my things upstairs for me. Thank you for that, by the way, my dear.”  
“Ngk - A-anytime, angel,” Crowley swallowed his initial gut reaction to snap at the other celestial being for the gratitude. His biggest internal excuse was that he wouldn’t have had that practically beaming smile directed at him otherwise.  
“But yes, word of mouth at first. Perhaps the customers will spread it about on that mo-bile application you showed me.”  
“App. Just… just app, Zira,” Crowley swore that Aziraphale said these things on purpose to try and rile him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he missed his angel’s poorly hidden knowing smile.  
“Right, well, best finish up then. It’ll be daylight in a few. And a weekend.”

Several days straight of manually moving books up the newly minted flight of stairs - Aziraphale wouldn’t let him just miracle them, no, ‘too delicate’ - left Crowley more physically exhausted than he anticipated. After his most recent trip, Crowley set the stack of heavy, dusty tomes down as gently as he could before he promptly collapsed onto the nearest mostly soft surface.  
He could finish when he woke. It wasn’t his fault if a customer spotted the first edition murder mysteries before the demon had gotten them all.

Aziraphale fiddled with a cream colored throw pillow for the upteenth time before he wondered where Crowley had gotten off to. He hadn’t heard him come downstairs for awhile. Sighing fondly, the angel ascended to his new flat and promptly blinked at the huge dark coiled mass in the middle of a plush rug. Tutting softly, Aziraphale effortlessly scooped up his snakey friend despite the unwieldy shape and size he’d taken and settled onto a couch he may or may not have miracled up just then.  
“Oh dear, Crowley, you could have said something,” the angel quietly admonished. The snake didn’t reply, only curled tighter around Aziraphale’s warm corporeal form. A hand absently stroked the smooth black scales as the angel summoned a book in the other, settling in until Crowley rested up.

The book club could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed if you stuck around after that glowing intro! Hah.
> 
> Let me know if I missed any tags~


End file.
